


Unity

by tamiveldura



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dominance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamiveldura/pseuds/tamiveldura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heero seeks a bigger rush, Duo can provide it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rush

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, guys this is so old. I don't even know why I'm posting it. I love this story.

The not-silent of three am was pound after pound of pressure on Duo’s ears. He rolled, not for the first time, and perched himself on his side. Heero lay motionless across the room, the steady up/down of his chest as unchangeable as the sea. Sometimes, like now, Duo hated the man for his machine-like ability to cope with things. They were filed, compartmentalized, trivialized and did not matter unless the Perfect Soldier brought them to the fore and said to himself ‘this shall matter to me.’ Duo wondered if anything merited such attention other than the impossible missions they were sent.

He stifled a sigh out of habit. With his insomnia tonight Duo wasn’t sure his roommate was asleep at all, but the man was doing a damned good impression of it and while Duo was wildly jealous, he wasn’t going to interrupt what might be a sound sleep because he was restless. 

Duo flicked the thin sheet off him and slipped to the floor in perfect silence. Stealth, like breathing, came naturally to him. Heero in the room made it more important. A wrong move would put Duo at the wrong end of a gun and while the American was sure he was destined to be killed by one of these four (Heero being the most likely candidate to shoot him in a fit of pique), he wasn’t in any particular hurry to hasten the process. Death was a rather concerning prospect; even for Shinigami.

The American pivoted on the worn wood of the floor, his equally worn socks sliding without even a whisper against the vinyl. His hair flicked in the air, a ripple of pressure that Duo balanced against in minute shifts from his shoulders to his toes. The flick fell to a gentle arc—he couldn’t afford even that bit of sound with Heero so close.

With all the sound of a ghost he paced to the desk that sat between their beds, Heero’s computer sat silent and dark on the warped wood. The only life in the machine was a steady blink of a non-colored light, like the steady breath of the Perfect Soldier. The two were disgustingly in sync.

Duo fell into the easy pattern with cat-like steps, long and steady, each one precisely where he wanted. 

He pivoted on the inhale.

Heero’s hand shot out, fast as quicksilver and made for Duo’s wrist. Shinigami was faster and sidestepped— directly into Heero’s other hand. They drew at the same time. Heero aimed his gun, safety off. Duo held a throwing knife.

They paused.

He should put the knife away. It was more of a threat at the moment from Heero’s point of view, but Duo couldn’t bring himself to drop the item with that gun still pointed. The Prussian blue eyes were not cloudy with sleep but the sound of a knife hitting the wood might not result in pleasant things.

Duo very slowly licked his lips. Heero followed the movement with his eyes and a minute turn of his head. With equal slowness the Perfect Soldier uncocked the Browning. Duo’s eyes went wide in surprise. He set it down beside the laptop and the American was surely gaping by now.

He made to set the thin blade down on the desk, or at least return it to the spring in his wrist, but Heero twitched at the first sign of movement. Duo froze. Even disarmed, Heero was more of a threat than Duo could ever be.

Pressure on his trapped wrist was surprising. Heero was drawing him forward, closer. The gleam in those Prussian eyes gave the American something to think about. While part of his brain screamed ‘danger!’ another was honestly considering this. What could Heero possibly be thinking?

The gun was down… about as put away as it was going to get, which meant killing wasn’t on the list of things immediately happening. (Duo was rather grateful about this fact.) However he couldn’t puzzle out any other reason he’d be drawn toward the Perfect Soldier, rather than shoved away, briskly told to get to bed, why couldn’t he let people sleep?

But closer? Closer meant Duo had an advantage with his knife. Closer meant more of a danger for Heero and yet that gleam… that slight turn of his eyes at the corners and the ghost of a smirk that was there if he squinted in just the right light… that gleam said this was a thrill. A rush.

Duo thought it might be an addiction.

He had seen Heero take impossible risks and come out of them, muttering about easy targets, lazy guards and generally unsatisfied with the challenge he faced. He was (could it be possible?) bored with the missions. They were each the same in their own pathetic way. Another base to infiltrate, another bomb to set, another computer to hack. The roadblocks were thin at best, nonexistent at worst and the Perfect Soldier was feeling a little over-trained.

Duo had yet to move any muscle that Heero didn’t indicate first. When the man reached forward (glaciers moved faster than this pair) to brush his knuckles against Duo’s cheek and hook his fingers around the American’s neck… brought him downward with all the speed of melting ice in the arctic… Duo’s brain made an impossible leap. An improbable, impossible leap.

It was the only thing that made sense.

It was more than a rush, more than a thrill for an adrenaline junkie. This was a danger, one that Heero couldn’t predict, couldn’t read with the same easy negligence that he read the mass-produced soldiers Oz sent against them. Duo was the next level, a test of skill—he wasn’t sure how he felt about that but when Heero’s lips brushed against his own Duo decided he could sort out feelings and tests later. This was much too interesting to stop.

The arm holding his knife twitched. Heero instantly turned his head to focus but the hand on Duo’s neck didn’t move, barely tensed. Duo could see the analysis flicking through the Perfect Soldier’s mind and the very instant the conclusion ‘Threat level: acceptable’ flicked across the final display.

Duo bent his elbow, brought the knife closer to them both, and probably signed his death warrant. Heero released the American’s wrist but only to move his hand upward. Duo followed the motion, not brave enough yet to skim his hand up Heero’s side, but bold enough to touch his forearm, slide the contact upward, and pin that arm to the pillow.

There was another tense pause.

Heero’s eyes nearly glowed with intensity. The muscles under Duo’s hand tensed with deliberate slowness. The American applied only enough pressure to keep the arm pinned, nothing more. When Heero relaxed, so did Duo and the creeping smirk across the Perfect Soldier’s mouth was worth a thousand deaths as far as Duo was concerned.

He perched his right knee on the mattress and suspended himself there for a moment, letting Heero absorb his movement before he made it. With aching control he floated his left leg over Heero’s placed it on the mattress, supported himself on those three points with the knife in his left hand, motionless.

Shinigami smiled. Heero tensed but his Prussian eyes continued to gleam.

Duo wanted to laugh. He wanted a picture of this moment, Heero unarmed and mostly pinned, certainly straddled and him holding a knife. It was an event that would never, ever, happen again. How far could he take this? Where was Heero’s point of no return?

The rush wasn’t just one-sided anymore. Duo could feel his blood racing and every detail was in hyper relief. The not-silence of three-thirty didn’t bother him. It was heady. There was also an erection straining his pants that Duo was so unsurprised about he had yet to consider it.

Heero’s free hand came to rest on Duo’s left thigh and gripped there lightly. The American passed his knife inches over Heero’s nose (and could measure the tension from the grip on his leg) and downward, just under the chin where he paused for effect… then moved further to Heero’s collar where the thin line of his shirt began and the tanned skin beneath escaped Duo’s sight.

He licked his lips and let the knife rest just there for a moment, divided from skin only by the green fabric of Heero’s tanktop, but as close as any knife had ever gotten to the man without his control.

He added pressure in degrees. The strands of fabric split, twisted back on themselves, curled inward and parted elegantly before the blade. Heero inhaled.

The fabric ended, pealing upward against the grain and Duo relaxed. The blade rested against warm skin, not quite hard enough to split, not quite light enough to pass as unimportant. Duo walked the fine edge like Trowa walked his tightrope… but he was fairly certain Trowa didn’t get this much of a rush from the heights.

Duo pulled the knife downward, cutting through green fabric and leaving the faintest white line of pressure in his wake. Between defined pectorals to the edge of the sternum, downward over abs where the fabric ended, parting eagerly like Duo’s lips as he licked them again.

Heero exhaled.

His stomach fell away from the knife, Duo chased it, kept the pressure on, pierced. 

The hand on Duo’s thigh twitched.

A drop of blood welled at the tip of his blade with the painful slowness of shifting continents. Duo was rather surprised he remained alive long enough to witness the event.

Heero inhaled, put pressure on the knife, and shocked Duo into pulling the blade away and looking up. The Perfect Soldier wasn’t focused on the American. His eyes were hazy, half-lidded and nearly all pupil. The man was so high on endorphins he probably couldn’t feel pain.

Interesting.

The shirt parted with simple flicks of the wrist and laid bare a fascinating blank canvas. He started at the collar with a shallow cut, small. It took time, but eventually blood colored it red and beaded at the center.

He traced another line, this one over the bump of the collar bone. Another around a dusky nipple where the nerves were dense. The blood rushed quicker there, Duo noticed.

Heero’s lips parted just so and the sigh of air that escaped was colored with sound. It was a moan that went directly to Duo’s arousal.

The American dipped his head and laved at the nipple, less for the taste of blood and more for the effect. And what a wonderful effect it was. Heero shuddered from top to toe and twisted in slow motion. It was a controlled arc of muscles tensing against Duo’s hold.

He decided they were wearing far too many clothes. The blade made short work of the spandex pants, Duo tossed them to the side and admired the view for a very brief moment. He leaned back to strip his own pants off but at the first sign of freedom Heero tensed. The glazed look in his eyes snapped to hyper-focus until Duo tightened his grip. Once it was clear the American still had him pinned, Heero’s eyes slid back into haziness.

Curious. Duo squinted at the man below him. How Heero could control himself to this degree he didn’t know… but it was a challenge he was more than willing to take. He traced a faint white line down Heero’s torso. The Perfect Soldier nearly writhed. Duo rested the blade against the outside of the man’s hip, dragged the flat of it around that smooth curve to the front. It was a nearly flat plain of skin there at the junction of leg and torso. Duo cut his name into that expanse; three simple letters that were much more shallow than the others this far. There was no blood- only the sting that drove Heero to higher heights.

Shinigami grinned. The Perfect Soldier had been marked. He probably didn’t know it yet and when he found out Duo would be in for some serious hell, but it would all be worth it. Completely worth it.

His erection throbbed. Duo slapped the blade on the bed, his palm flat against the mattress to support his weight. He bent nearly double and breathed over Heero’s arousal before taking just the tip into his mouth. He bobbed his head downward, halfway, then scraped his teeth a bit more than gently as he drew up again. Down, up with a scrape, down a bit further and he had to shift his legs to pin Heero more firmly in place.

Restraints, he thought absently, next time there needed to be restraints. Duo opened his mouth and breathed. The shock of air sent Heero into another writhing twist, still so perfectly controlled, that nearly had him out of Duo’s straining grip.

Duo growled and bit at Heero’s torso. He latched onto the man’s shoulder and ground their hips together. With one hand busy holding Heero’s arm and his mobility limited by the pilot’s grip on his thigh Duo was rapidly running out of options for stimulation. He was close to the edge, so close. It would be so easy to push himself over… but Heero wasn’t there yet.

The Wing pilot moaned a second time and Duo reconsidered. Maybe he was there, but the masochistic control he exerted over his own body was preventing the best part of this encounter. The hand on Duo’s thigh tightened impossibly. There was probably going to be a bruise there soon if this kept up.

Duo abandoned the knife on the bed and pulled at Heero’s hand. It didn’t so much as budge. 

“Let go.” He demanded, biting Heero’s collarbone then laving his tongue over the cut he’d made there previously.

After some hesitation the grip loosened, then relaxed. Duo yanked the hand upward and pinned them both against the pillow. Such a vulnerable position was like flipping a switch. Heero’s hips surged upward. Duo reattached his mouth to the man’s shoulder, the point where it joined neck, and rode the movement with surprising ease. They surged again, Heero supporting Duo’s full weight for a moment. The American clung with thighs and hands, focused mostly on keeping the man pinned since he had little leverage for much else.

Heero’s breath was almost in pants. Not quite and the nearly steady in-out was driving Duo insane. Was there nothing that would send this man over the edge for the final piece of this puzzle? He twisted his hips for his own pleasure and seized against Heero with the force of the climax. It was wrung from his thin body drop for drop, every intense wave more nerve wracking than the last. His hands twitched against Heero’s wrists and finally, finally something strained in the Wing pilot.

Heero wrenched his arms from Duo’s grip and held the smaller man’s hips hard as the American came, twitching and nearly incoherent. The Perfect Soldier jerked and gasped. His eyes fell shut then flashed open again as the first wave of sensation tore through his control. It was heavenly. The second crash of feeling tensed his body head to toe and he found himself wondering if it could get any better than this. And then it did. His mind shook and his fingers spasmed, he thought he said something; he could’ve been wrong. It was all a mess of sound and pressure in his head with a voice screaming at him about unacceptable risk while another agreed and demanded strict control but he really didn’t care a this point because Duo-- !!

Duo had given him this freedom without knowing what Heero had wanted in the first place… not that Heero himself knew what he was doing when he put down that gun and let Duo keep his knife--

Knife!

Awareness snapped into place and Heero’s hand shot out to the mattress where knife… should have been. He sat up in the bed and aimed his Browning at Duo. Shinigami was already across the room with knife in hand.

“Now, He-chan, are we gonna go through this shit again?”


	2. The Danger

Duo eyed the distance between him and the building with some trepidation. There was a fence in the way, not a very difficult obstacle to overcome but one that would take a moment of time. Beyond it were two OZ soldiers that Duo was considerably less worried about since they were about to die a very quiet death.

A shadow detached itself from the wall of the building and struck swiftly. At the first sign of movement Duo burst from his hiding place and sprinted for the fence. His only concern were the explosives against his back, wrapped and stacked carefully in the only backpack they had. Heero killed both guards before the American ever reached the fence. Duo was a bit annoyed with that—the man could at least pretend it had been somewhat difficult. He scaled the chain-link like a rat and landed on the other side at a run. Heero took the left-hand side; Duo took the right of the building without question.

It was supposed to be an easy in and out. Blow up the important shit, download whatever they could get their hands on and get out alive; not necessarily in that order.

Duo plastered himself to a stucco wall and held his breath for a slow count of ten. That was plenty of time for Heero to break into the building. The Deathcythe pilot peered around the transformer he had taken shelter behind and smirked. This was just too easy. A single guard blocked an entrance and he looked beyond bored. Duo slid through the shadows and killed the man cleanly. He took another few seconds to drag the body into that crook beside the transformer then ghosted his way into the building.

It was silent. An eerie kind of electronic quiet that he knew should have held more sounds than just filtered air through the ducts. The hall was long and a few of the lights flickered at the end, cheap florescent. Duo padded down the hallway; one, two, third door on the left. He peer through the glass window and grinned. Only a single man was inside.

Duo rapped his knuckles on the door and twisted his black cap around. There was a grumble from the man inside, then the sound of boots. Duo flattened himself against the wall. The military man didn’t bother to look out the window but wrenched the door open with an irritated, “What do you—“

The pilot buried his fist in the man’s stomach and delivered an uppercut to the jaw. The soldier was out before he hit the ground. Duo slid the door shut and scanned the computers before him. Three screens were split to display various camera feeds around the base, constantly flicking to cover different areas. 

Well wasn’t this handy? Duo jabbed a small chip into a port on the computer. It started downloading information instantly. While it was busy the pilot scanned the rest of the room. It was aside from two chairs and a metal panel along the back wall, there was nothing remotely interesting.

He tapped his thigh absently and automatically covered a wince. Heero’s grip had bruised him, then. It had simply taken a few hours to really get colorful. Duo scanned the video feeds and poked the muscles around his thigh, trying to determine the severity of the bruise. There was nothing interesting on the screen and they abruptly went black. That would be the virus Heero had coded before they left. Excellent.

Duo grabbed the port and yanked the cords out of the computers for good measure. At the wall he jimmied the lock on the panel in less than a second and smiled. Someone had kindly labeled each of the levers inside. With a chuckle he pulled the switch titled ‘Master.’

The lights died. The air filter hum slipped into silence. Duo didn’t need the light to see and Heero could handle himself in the dark. The pilot checked his watch. Heero would be in the basement by now. He jogged out of the room and down the hallway, reviewing the blueprint in his head. His target lay in the north east corner, a larger warehouse-like room.

The only soldiers he found on his way were already dead. He reached his target without a hitch only to discover an electronic lock he couldn’t crack now that the power was out. He skimmed his hands along the walls and found a panel like the one before. A manual release was inside.

“Too easy…” he muttered and twisted the handle . The doors hissed open. Inside were more electronics than Duo knew what to do with. There were wires everywhere, most of them leading to or away from a bastardized Leo in the center of the room. There wasn’t a single part of the machine that hadn’t been exposed and tinkered with.

Duo assessed the room with a sweeping glance and darted through the forest of cables toward the prototype. He flipped his backpack around to his chest and set a few clusters of C4 deep inside the machinery. The bombs were crude, but they’d do the trick. Duo checked his watch.

Three minutes.

Plenty of time. The pilot set several more elaborate explosives around the room, emptying his pack. 

Running footsteps caught his attention. They weren’t Heero’s. Duo ducked behind the prone mecha just before a small group of soldiers swept inside the warehouse.

“Get a move on, damnit…” hand held lights flashed around the room, “we’re out of time!”

“Should’a done this last week like I said—“

“Shuddup, Mike. Get to work.”

Duo left the men to their bickering and panned over the walls of the warehouse. They would all be dead soon, they didn’t matter to him. He spotted a window and moved in that direction, only wary enough to avoid their flashlights. The idiots were so rushed he didn’t even try being quiet. Duo scaled a small tower of boxes and suppressed the urge to growl at the window he found. There was no way to pop the thing neatly open.

“Goddamned lights—what the hell is James doing, anyway, sleeping?”

“Asshole’s probably watching us fumble around like rats—“

“Shuddup, the both of you! You’re like children…”

Duo automatically counted five voices while he ran his fingers around the edges of the window, searching for a catch or a fault in the design. Nothing.

Something crashed and Duo grabbed the opportunity with both hands. While the men struck up an argument the pilot smashed his hand through the glass and wrenched the window open from the outside. A circle of light painted his shadow on the wall.

“Hey, you—“

But Duo was already dropping to the ground just in time to see Heero sprinting for the fence not far away. He took off in a similar direction, fishing the detonator from his pack as he ran. The fence was easier to scale without the weight of C4 on his back. His watch beeped once and a deep explosion rocked the earth. Duo landed hard and pressed his own detonator, sending the base into a mushroom of smoke and fire.

The sounds of men shouting spurred Duo into the surrounding forest. He zigzagged through the trees in the general direction of Heero’s flight path. That he found the man at all was a miracle. Heero slowed, recognizing the sound of Duo’s footsteps but the American didn’t. 

He slammed them both into a tree and attacked Heero’s mouth with all the ferocity he’d contained in the warehouse. He pressed their bodies flush, pinning Heero and assessing his arousal all in the same instant. Heero yanked the backpack and Duo stumbled. He shed the extra weight and collapsed when Heero pressed his advantage. They went tumbling into the dirt. Duo’s shirt was torn from his body, the pants didn’t suffer much longer. 

The American triggered the knife at his wrist and rolled them over, swiftly removing Heero’s shirt. He sliced the waistband of Heero’s pants when the shouts of Oz soldiers startled them apart. Duo leapt to his feet and sent the knife flying into the throat of the first man. He’d rip the damned spandex if he had to. Heero was on his feet and shot the second and third before they finished gaping at the naked teen.

Duo lunged for the gun. Heero dropped it before he could do anything and the two crashed together again. Duo grappled for Heero’s hands and pinned them against a tree. He kicked the man’s legs wide, off balancing him and palmed the erection there with a bite to Heero’s shoulder.

“Aaah!” It was the first involuntary sound Heero had made. Duo ground his hips into Heero’s and relished the hiss it produced. That was where he had cut his name. He wondered if he’d be paying for that little stunt any time soon. He clawed at the spandex, finally tearing it away and knelt. Heero tried to pull out of Duo’s grip but the American just grabbed a wrist in each hand and brought them down with him, flattening them to the tree as he swallowed the erection in front of him.

“Fuck!”

Yeah, that’s the idea. Duo swallowed around the shaft and worked his way harshly to the tip. He slid back down when Heero cocked his hips upward. Duo sucked the flesh and twisted his tongue, applying every trick he could think of. It worked. Heero tensed and Duo bit down. Not hard. It was enough.

He swallowed what was offered and pulled his own erection. He was knocked flat in a second. Heero’s knees hit the dirt and Duo screamed when his arousal was engulfed. His hands seized in Heero’s hair and his back arched off the forest floor with the force of it.

Heero rolled left and Duo followed the movement in an instant. He threw himself over Heero, vaulting farther with the man’s momentum and rolled in the dirt. He aimed the Browning as he straightened. Heero paused in his crouch.

“Yanno… we really have to stop meeting like this.” Duo smiled.


	3. The Thrill

>> Status: Lucid. Damage: Assessing…

Heero suppressed a groan and any other involuntary twinges of muscle that could possibly indicate his return to consciousness. It fucking hurt, though. He was strung up against a wall, stone of some kind, with metal that wasn’t simple steel, probably Gundanium, those Oz bastards. His ankles were restrained against the wall as well. Peachy.

>> Assessing

The room was small, three by five square, eight to ten feet high. He couldn’t tell without looking at it. The nearly-silent hum of electronics told him he was being watched, no big surprise, there. The lack of another body in the room was a bit more worrisome. They didn’t have someone here to start torturing him as soon as he woke up? Sloppy…

>> Assessment complete. Damage: 39 percent, concussed, third rib on the right side cracked; mobility compromised 5 percent. Knife wound in upper left thigh, negligible. Blood loss, minimal.

Heero squinted first and then opened his eyes to pale darkness. Ten feet, he decided on the ceiling and noticed no windows, only a single door entrance and no obvious means of observation other than the four corner cameras. He could hear no voices. Either the room was soundproofed extremely well, or there was no one outside. Very sloppy.

The pilot strained at his shackles and predictably got nowhere. Definitely not simple steel, then.

The door hissed open.

>> Identify: Pilot O2, Analyze threat: Assessing… 

“Hey, Hee-chan. I thought I’d find you in here. Can’t tell you how much of a guard they’ve got on you… had on you—“ He flashed a grin, “’s all taken care of.”

>> Assessment complete: Pilot 02, no threat 

“Hn.”

“Eloquent as always…” Duo muttered and fingered his lock picks. He padded closer, licking his lips. “You look good up there, Heero… restrained.”

>> Proximity… no threat. 

“Either shoot me or let me down.”

“Now, now… not so fast. I killed a lot of people to get down here. I’m not in such a hurry to rush on back up.” Duo flicked his knife out with an exaggerated thoughtful expression.

>> Proximity… mild threat. Solution: Disarm 02 

Heero managed to keep from shifting. “Don’t toy with me, Oh two—“

“I think I will,” Shinigami grinned and stepped closer, dragging the blade absently across Heero’s faded tank-top. “I saw you on the monitors,” He whispered and shoved his hips against Heero’s thigh—

>> Proximity: Threat! Unacceptable! Primary Solution: Disarm 02. Impediment: Restraints. Solution: Assessing… 

\--he was hard beneath the flat black of the priest’s pants, “And I had to kill a lot of people… to give us some time.”

>> Assessing… 

“So I think I’ll use it to my advantage…” The shirt fell away, the spandex pants followed. Cool air brushed over Heero’s skin. That was the third set of clothes Duo had shredded. The man was going to pay for that.

>> Assessment complete: No solution. Unacceptable! Assessing… 

The blade was cold on Heero’s collarbone. He stared blandly at Duo’s wide violet eyes and didn’t shiver. It migrated down his chest, still cold.

“Hmm, yanno this isn’t nearly so much fun when you’re not enjoying it, Hee-chan.” The next words were low next to his ear. “I think you need to relax… let it all go for a minute. We’ll be out of here soon.” He trailed his fingers over Heero’s stomach, light feather-touches.

>> No solution. Unacceptable! Reevaluate Primary Solution: Assessing… 

“Ah. You’re thinking much too hard.” Duo returned the knife to the spring against his wrist and tapped his lips with a finger, thinking. Heero jerked against the restraints when the pilot bent and swiped his tongue over the lingering red lines of his name. The cuts were nearly healed; Heero still wasn’t sure what he thought about them.

>> ?!? Does not compute. No response = disarmament of 02? Does not compute! Reevaluate! 

“That’s better…” Duo purred, “I’m not one of your dull Oz soldiers, Heero. I don’t want to kill you…”

Heero tensed. Duo leaned his weight forward, pressing the other man slightly into the wall behind him; hands firm on either side. He stretched forward and kissed Heero lightly, just a brush of lips and little more.

>> Evaluation complete: Hostile response = armament of 02, no response = disarmament of 02, … favorable response = ?? Assessing… 

The Perfect Soldier allowed himself to return the kiss, only the most minute tilt of his head to give away the action. Duo responded instantly, pressing himself closer, begging entrance to his mouth with a swipe of his tongue.

>> Assessing… 

He opened and Duo plunged, licking along teeth and tongue with a satisfied groan waiting in the back of his throat that Heero swallowed with rising urgency. He canted his hips toward Duo in a jerky demand. Heero bit hard at the pilot’s lip when the need wasn’t met.

>> Assessing… 

The Perfect Soldier watched Duo’s eyes loose their focus for a brief instant, then snap back into awareness with a sinister grin. Duo raked his fingers across the torso before him and ran his nails up Heero’s erection. The Wing pilot’s breath hitched and Duo grinned harder, a sharp glint in the violet eyes that Heero was wary of.

>> Assess-- … !! 

Duo spun out of the room, his braid smacking Heero across the face in his haste. Out the door and out of sight he laughed maniacally. Suddenly Heero was falling. He caught himself on one knee and took off after the American. Duo was fast, but Heero was efficient. The two of them raced through the complex compound around blind corners with no regard for the soldiers who once populated it. Duo skipped over bodies as if they were daises, easily sidestepping their respective puddles of blood

Heero trusted in the idiot’s word. He had taken out the enemy—all of the enemy—otherwise he wouldn’t have started this deadly game. Heero rounded a corner and was confronted with an empty hallway with a series of doors. He paused and suddenly smiled.

It was not friendly.

>> Assessment complete: Favorable response = ideal training simulation. Acceptable. 

Hunting Duo wasn’t at all like taking out an Oz base. Cookie cutter soldiers did not provide a challenge in either stealth or strength. Their sheer numbers weren’t even enough against the Gundams themselves and no realm of husbandry could stop the pilots. They were equally deadly below the water as they were in the air, on the ground, or in space. They were born for free-fall, they were trained for earth—but they would loose that over prepared edge unless something could push the limit, test the boundary and toe the line. Heero had considered the Deathcythe pilot a possible candidate for testing such limits… he hadn’t realized the man was just as desperate for a challenge.

Heero stripped the pants off the closest body of a soldier and rolled the legs to fit. He found the deceased man’s gun as well, and then eased himself on silent feet into the hall, listening intently. The quiet hum of the air filter drowned out any of the below-hearing signs Duo might let slip; Heero didn’t place much faith in catching the pilot that way.

The lights flickered, a half-dimming blink that most people wouldn’t have even noticed. It stood out to Heero like a flashing neon sign reading ‘showgirls here.’ He passed several doors without a thought and paused outside one on the left that looked the same as all the others. There was no sound from within. Heero made no sound from without. The lights flicked again and then blinked off completely, plunging him into pitch darkness.

Heero twisted the knob and slipped inside the room faster than Duo could stand from his nest of wires and hide. He pointed the standard issue, squaring them off with only a vague shadow-shape between them. His senses told him it was desk.

The sound of a spring indicated his opponent was now armed (again) and he licked his lips. The immediate situation didn’t lend itself to passionate kissing—the only sure-fire way he had of disarming Duo… although, the first time they’d done this he had initiated it. 

The Perfect Soldier carefully re-cocked the gun in his hand and set it deliberately on the edge of the desk in front of him.

>> Unacceptable!! 

He couldn’t pull his fingers away from the weapon, he was in an enemy base, deeper than he had been in the cell. Heero tried to uncurl his fingers from the grip but they refused to move.

>> THREAT!! 

Duo was a blur in the darkness and took care of the problem. The knife flashed in an errant ray of light. Heero pointed the gun but his arm was blocked and yanked forward. He lunged with his knee up, was blocked. Heero tried to break them apart but Duo was having none of it. The lithe pilot pressed his advantage with a kick at Heero’s knee: blocked. The move was a feint.

>> !! 

Duo slashed the knife into Heero’s guard and pressed it against his neck.

>> … 

They paused.

“Now what” Heero was surprised to find the words pop out of his mouth, not Duo’s. They sounded less than steady.

The knife moved just slightly digging enough to draw blood down the blade; “Now you put the gun down.” Duo sounded a little breathless; perhaps he was surprised at how quickly Heero had found him. That would teach the pilot to fuck with the lights so early in the game. They had been on enough missions together; Duo always killed the lights. Maybe he’d amend his predictability in the future.

>> … 

Heero pushed the gun onto the tabletop and Duo arched forward in a movement so controlled Heero could sense every inch before it was engulfed in heat. He knew the other pilot was hard moments before their bodies connected; knew because he was in the same state—an adrenaline high that only spiked with their dash deeper into the base.

>> … 

The knife moved from his throat because Duo was busy kissing him instead. Heero gripped the man’s head and controlled it fiercely, bending Duo into his body. The pilot took a step back and yanked Heero to the side in the same movement. Heero slammed his palms on the desk, before he could push off Duo was there against his back, leaning him into the wood. His shoulder was nipped and he felt a tug on the trousers he’d stolen.

“You and your fucking pants…” Duo breathed as he cut away at the fabric, too impatient to do it neatly. He yanked them down to Heero’s ankles and the soldier kicked them away. Heero’s chest met the desk when Duo shoved him unexpectedly downward. “You couldn’t stand to be naked in enemy territory for two damned minutes, could you?” his rough voice taunted.

Heero tensed against the hand but the ‘scythe pilot had more leverage and kicked his legs wide. Fingers and cold gel probed. Heero jerked backward and took a swing at the man behind him. “Where--?”

Duo grabbed his left hand and wrenched it backward, forcing him to catch himself against the desk or eat it. “Planned it.” He caught himself and grunted when Duo’s finger entered him in the same moment.

“Fuck you.”

“Working on it.” Duo grinned.

It was… gentle? No, that was the wrong word for the relentless pursuit of pleasure. More like… filling. It was an overtaking. An efficient perimeter search and destroy. The questing finger stabbed erroneously at Heero’s prostrate and his knee slammed into the desk. Duo chuckled in his ear, a low husky sound, “Found it.”

That spot was summarily placed under a stunning barrage that left Heero gasping for breath. When the fireworks of white receded from his mind he found his right leg up on the desk, his ass spread wantonly, and Duo with three fingers wide. He let his head fall to the wood with a soft thunk and sucked air during the reprieve.

It was unsurprisingly short. Duo’s cock was long and Heero felt every inch of it for an eternity; filling, splitting, completing him. His heart palpated; a completely foreign sensation that made him gasp and tense. Duo hissed at his back and there were suddenly a very warm arm around his chest, gripping him close. They remained like that for a moment, just breathing, supporting one another.

When Duo pulled back it was torturously slow and the glide back in was punctuated with a cant of their hips that stabbed at Heero’s prostate. He arched back. Duo bit down on his shoulder, the fleshy muscle beneath twitched. Heero tossed his free hand back and gripped Duo’s hair, completing the complex knot of their bodies. With one arm trapped behind him and a leg up on the desk, Heero had little leverage for movement and Duo was persistently slow.

Out… In… They surged together. Heero let out a breathy moan that encouraged Duo faster—out, in—against the desk of a former Oz soldier in the depths of their own base—out, in—completely uncoerced and utterly of their own volition—out, in—it felt deliciously like staking a claim. They had concurred the enemy and earned the right to decorate the castle how they chose.

Duo’s hand snaked downward and tugged at Heero’s erection in a random series of strokes. The braided pilot was in no shape to even out the contact, as focused as he was on other things. Heero strained uselessly, there was nowhere for him to move to. “Harder.” He finally growled, half delirious with pleasure he could sense just there out of reach. “Damnit, Duo—“

“Oh, god…” The words were barely a whisper against Heero’s back. “Say it again.” Duo surged forward with a roll of his hips.

“Harder—“

“No, you ass,” He pulled out sharply and caused a sharp sting of loss to shoot through the Perfect Soldier. “Say my name…”

“Duo…” The word was strained. Heero wanted that full feeling back, wanted it so desperately he would’ve done anything in that moment to have it.

Surge. “Again. Say it again.”

They arched, “Duo.”

“Again.”

“Duo!”

Heero gripped a fistful of red hair and shouted when Duo bit down again, hard. He came in a pulse that washed through him, crashed, and rose again before he could take a breath. Duo’s fingers urged him higher in the spiral and he was certain this time he said something but it didn’t matter because he was out of air and that only hurtled him over the edge with more force than Wing’s beam rifle.

He distantly recognized Duo’s shaking climax and slumped forward on the desk, bracing himself with both hands. Duo draped himself forward, breathing hard, and slid his hands over Heero’s interlocking their fingers. Heero’s thigh was starting to cramp on the desk but he ignored it and focused on steadying his heartbeat. 

>> … 

He collected himself slowly, muscles tensing as the fog receded. Duo noticed and gripped Heero’s hands against the desk. For a moment, the pilot thought he’d have to fight his way free but Duo surprised him. The warmth slid away smoothly, as did the pervasive sensation of being complete. He slipped his leg off the desk and covered a wince from the screaming muscles, but otherwise didn’t move. 

>> … 

He allowed Duo to dress, reset his knife, take the firearm from the edge of the table… His breathing steadied. Duo tossed the cut pants onto the desk and Heero focused on them absently. They weren’t as destroyed as he’d thought. Passable.

His thoughts were sluggish, he knew this and couldn’t bring himself to snap out of it. There was no danger here anymore—Duo had seen to that an age ago. The pilot was no threat to him, not a mortal threat anyway—

“Heero?”

The tone held very little concern in it but those violet eyes were wide and the soft hand along his shoulder demanded his attention. The Perfect Soldier slowly moved his arm toward Duo and enfolded the pilot in a tight embrace. He put his face in Duo’s neck and just breathed.

“Ah… cuddler.” Duo said, as if this meant something profound. He returned the embrace just as strongly, full body contact that was more satisfying than Heero could remember if he tried. 

>> … 

“Hn.”


	4. The Secret

Duo twisted the wrench in his hand with a grunt and carefully organized the wiring he was currently buried elbow deep inside. Normally this was not much of a problem, but a converter in ‘Scythe’s right ankle fried in the last firefight and a whole series of breakers flipped to save the machine from further damage. So now Duo was contorted on the hanger floor. He worked mostly by touch, with his hands extended nearly as far as they could reach over his head, and the strain was getting to him.

But for all that, the replacement was done and it was only a matter of testing. Then ‘Scythe would be better than new. Duo disentangled the wires and stood up slowly. A steel arm shoved him about. Heero pinned his neck and right arm to the mecha and Duo saw his death in those Prussian eyes. He struggled but Heero had the upper hand and superior strength, all he managed to do was tear out a few wires.

“Fuck you, Yuy.” He gasped out.

Heero narrowed his eyes. “You marked me.”

Hell, was that what this was about? A little late, Perfect Soldier! The cuts were probably long gone by now. Duo stilled under the pilot’s hold but couldn’t suppress the downward flick of his eyes. Heero cut his air further and growled.

“Why?”

Duo would have laughed if he had the air. “Because I could. Because you can barely resist it.” Duo’s smile was feral and he stroked Heero’s cheek with his free left hand. He hooked and ankle around Heero’s knee and pulled them together. This time he did chuckle. “Try and deny it-“

“You don’t own me, Oh-two.”

Back to numbers, were they? He didn’t even warrant a last name? The Perfect Soldier must be pissed. Yes, that emotion you’re feeling, Heero; that one’s called anger.

“No more than you own me, Yuy.” Duo smirked, then gulped for air.

“Emotional attachment compromises the mission-“

“What,” Duo interrupted with a slight pout, “You think I won’t be able to kill you?” A spring twanged at Duo’s left wrist and the abrupt stillness was absolute. Sinigami smiled. It took some doing to surprise the Perfect Soldier. Duo was right handed, sure enough, but was distinctly aware of how terrible that dependency could be. He started practicing with his knives on the left hand two missions ago.

Poor Yuy apparently hadn’t noticed.

Duo stroked the blade down Heero’s neck then exploded into movement. That was another thing he’d been working on. If he couldn’t be stronger than his partner than he damn well was going to be faster. With his ankle still hooked around Heero’s knee he pushed the pilot backward and off balance, then rode the momentum down to straddle the man. The wide-eyed look he savored on the way down was well worth the jarred landing.

He pinned one hand under his right knee and caught a shoulder under his left then sat his ass down on Heero’s erection to distract the pilot from bucking him off. Heero bucked anyway and twisted his hips to pleasure himself. Duo bent forward and kicked Heero’s feet flat, his hand landed on a coil of rope and Shinigami’s smile turned downright sinister.

Duo looped the rope around Heero’s right hand. The pilot dislocated his thumb to slip through it immediately. The knife skittered along the cement into some corner. Duo let it go, he had another on his right hand after all.

“Oh, fine then.” Duo muttered and looped the rope around Heero’s elbow instead, then coiled it down his forearm and tied another loop at the wrist. They grappled for a moment. Heero twisted about and Duo lost his balance and fell to the side. Heero followed with a grin.

With their positions reversed Duo got desperate. His hands found an iron ring above his head set into the cement, probably one of several used with the winches. He threaded the end of the rope through the ring and yanked it back down hard. Heero’s hand jerked up and a startled “Shit!” escaped the Perfect Soldier’s control.

Duo laughed and rolled them over again then set to tying a knot. After that it was an easy matter to lash Heero’s other hand to another ring. The spring at his right wrist launched a knife into his hand. Duo sliced the green tank top to ribbons with a snicker. He’d probably catch shit for that later but he didn’t care. He was starting to consider tattered clothes his trademark.

He started on the pants when Heero hissed: “Pocket—“ to make Duo pause. Pocket? They didn’t carry things in their pockets, it made flexible movement more difficult. With a distracted frown he fished in the fabric. The small tube he found was a distinct surprise.

“Why Hee-chan. I didn’t know you cared!” And laughed when Heero tried to dislodge his firm position with a vicious twist of his hips. Duo simply bore down on the movement; it melted into a surge that rippled up Heero’s chest. The Perfect Soldier caught the sound before it could escape. Duo frowned. He wanted to hear the man scream his name, not swallow it under rigid control.

Heero quickly lost his pants after that. Duo managed to toss his shirt to the side before Heero hooked his knees and pulled him back down. Duo fell forward. He planted his hands on either side of the pilot and bent to kiss him, not at all protesting the skin to skin contact it brought. He nibbled down the straight jaw and nipped the skin at the top of the neck. Heero hissed. His bound hands prevented him from rolling them over and finishing the whole process too quickly. Which was just fine with Duo, he was having a little fun making the Perfect Soldier wait.

Duo wiggled out of his pants and their frantic movements slowed. Heero took the braided pilot’s weight with no protest and they kissed for a moment. Duo languidly explored the mouth below his, enjoyed Heero’s heat along the length of his body, and was struck with the urge to curl up here in this moment and never leave it.

He strangled a laugh, muffled it against Heero’s skin. The Perfect Soldier would have his hide if he ever suspected that thought. Duo pushed it as far away as he could and groped for the lube.

He took time to prepare himself, made a show of it as best as he could. Heero’s eyes faded from brilliant Prussian to gunmetal grey. Duo could see the shift when the pilot tried to put a cap on his reactions. It made him try harder. 

The touch of his hand along Heero’s length caused another change. From lethal grey to frozen ice. The last and final hurdle Heero had to hold back and subdue a wonton creature.

Duo moaned when he impaled himself. There was nothing in the world that could compare to the slow stretch of another living being nor to the sensation of each stiff inch of flesh dragging across his prostate. Pleasure shuddered through him in an idyllic wave but it was the small issue of sound from Heero’s lips that made him forget how to breathe.

He didn’t wait to savor the moment. As soon as his ass touched Heero’s hips he surged upward again and impaled himself a second time just as slowly as the first.

Heero shifted, moved to counter his surging repetition, and drove their pattern faster, harder. They rocked. Even Heero’s tangled hands added to the movement. With every lurch upward he tugged on the ropes and used the leverage through his shoulders to snap his hips in that perfect arc of control. 

Duo’s breath hitched. He knew he was gone, had known it when Heero became an object of comfort rather than merely competition. He had to hide the feeling somehow, bury it so deeply that even he forgot about it. 

Another slow wave of sensation made his fingers tingle and Duo was suddenly doubtful. If he couldn’t hide this soft spot than he’d have to distract Heero from it for as long as he could.

The Perfect Soldier would find out, he always did.

Hopefully he’d be off on a mission when that realization hit.

They rocked, Duo gasped; “Say it?” and bit his tongue. He didn’t mean for that to come out, didn’t mean to say anything at all.

Heero thrust against him sharply and Duo met it with eyes clenched shut. Stupid. Giving the man clues was not the best way to keep a secret, honestly. You’d think he never went through training the way he was spilling his guts here.

What an interrogation method; secrets by sex. Kushrenada would have a field day.

“Duo….” It was a sigh. It was barely above the threshold of sound. It slammed into Duo’s chest like a hammer and made him pant for air. That word was painfully tight with need and desire and begged to be answered.

This emotion, Heero; this one is called lust.

Duo cut off an articulation that would have echoed in the hanger and managed to suppress it into a whimper. It was more than lust.

Then his partner did it again; “Duo--” and it shattered his control. He was more than a number. More than a survivor of some ‘children’s home’ on L2 where even the rich lived in squalor. He had a name and somewhere in that complex linear mind Heero knew it.

Duo nearly wept when the climax finally broke over them. He heard his name, repeated over and over. Shouted, whispered, strained and finally in panting relief.

When the haze cleared Heero was holding him tightly and Duo let himself relax, boneless. He kept his mouth shut but opened his eyes to assess… he wasn’t sure. Heero’s reaction? Maybe. Either way his stare fell on his knife and a thought formed.

He retrieved the blade and forced his body to sit up. Heero clung to him, tried to drag him back down, but the thought was persistent and so was Duo. He slid lower and swiped a hand on that juncture of hip and thigh where the thin white lines of his name were almost faded.

He traced over them, drawing blood this time and Heero did not protest until he was finished.

Prussian eyes stared, perfectly lucid. “Why?”

Duo answered before he could talk himself out of it by thinking. “Because I am the only one you let even an inch closer to you and God as my witness I am going to defend that inch with my dieing breath.”

It came out in a rush. Before he could regret it, Duo bolted for the door, bending once on his way to snatch his other knife. He may run and hide, but he would never tell a lie.


	5. The Plan (part 1)

Duo whistled a carol under his breath as he worked in the cockpit. Everything had to be firmly tied down, all the fastenings coupled and connections double-checked. If anything came out during a mission, he wasn’t going to have the time to pay any attention to it and he certainly didn’t want sparks flying about if he could help it. The pilot plugged the last plug, checked the tape around the wires and relaxed into his chair with a sigh; finally finished.

He flicked a switch on the console and his grin multiplied. A strand of Christmas lights snaked around the interior of his mecha and after a moment to warm up, began a blinking chase. Duo tied a small tassel of ribbon along the strand and managed to avoid cracking up for a whole three minutes.

“This is so sad, little-rat.” He chuckled. “Dressing ‘Scythe up like some kind of present…”

“You up there, Duo!?”

The braided pilot leaned out the cockpit and waved. “Hey, Quatre! Come on up!” He sat back and resisted the urge to tear down the twinkling lights before his friend could see them. It took him two hours to tape them around his monitors securely; undoing all that work now would just be depressing. Besides, Winner wasn’t going to tease him about it… he hoped.

The blonde braced himself between the belay line and the mecha until he found a firm handhold. When he looked up his smile was gentle. “These are nice,” He said, looking about, “Do you celebrate Christmas, Duo?”

“Ah,” Duo blushed and rubbed the back of his head, “Well, Sister Helen always got into the spirit of it. I guess I just got used to decorating ‘round this time of year.” He paused awkwardly for a moment. “Um… was there something you needed?”

Quatre blinked, “Oh, right.” The blonde crouched in the doorway and seemed to consider his words carefully. 

Duo sat up, alarmed. “Is everything ok?”

“What? Oh, everything’s fine, just… well. I saw Heero coming out of the shower yesterday and his wrists and elbows were ringed, like he’d been in shackles or… tied up or something.”

Duo’s alarm shot through the roof. He and Heero hadn’t exactly been discrete in their relationship (such that it was) but nor had they announced it. Duo hadn’t even considered telling the guys but apparently Quatre had noticed. He covered a wince and tried his best to look passively interested rather than on the verge of panic.

“Anyway, he wouldn’t tell me where he got the injuries and I was wondering if you knew?”

He could deny everything but Quatre would only go searching for answers. The fact that he was here asking proved that. He would probably be skinned alive if he actually spilled the beans so that wasn’t an option.

“What did he say, exactly?” Stalling for time, always a good plan. Come on, Duo, think!

“Nothing important. They wouldn’t impact his ability to complete the mission—you know how he is, single-minded.”

Duo was quite aware just how focused Heero could be.

“I’m just worried he got into some trouble and didn’t tell us. We haven’t had any missions the past few days and I didn’t notice anything when he came back from that assault out in the Pacific.”

Duo shook his head, “I’m sure if he had been compromised somehow he would have let us know. Single-minded, remember? He always lets us know if something goes bad so we’ll be aware and can work around it.”

“Right but… well then where was he injured? Why would he be tied up?”

“Did it look bad?” Duo asked and lifted an eyebrow.

“Well, no.” Quatre conceded, “But certainly uncomfortable for a few days. Nothing more than a minor rope burn, though.”

Duo bit his lip.

“You know something, don’t you.” Quatre’s tone was firm and Duo realized there was no backing out, now. He slapped his hand on the release for the hatch and forced Quatre to crowd into the cockpit. “Duo?”

“You have to swear on your soul you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” His voice was low, serious, and he didn’t let Quatre edge around his stare until the blonde nodded mutely.

“I did it, I tied him up.”

“WHAT!?”

“Shhh!!” Duo brought up his external sensors and swept the screens.

“What do you mean, you tied him up?”

“Hush for a minute! Sheesh!” He triple checked the outgoing radio. If this was being broadcast he was going to shoot himself.

“Duo! What did he do that you needed to tie him up!?”

Duo snarled, “I fucked him, ok!?”

Quatre blinked. A blush pinked his cheeks.

Duo ducked his head, sure that the blood running to his face was going to cause his nose to bleed. “I…” knew it would get him off… “We…” have been going at it for the past month… “It’s like a challenge for him, we’re both… dangerous people. All five of us, really. But when you’re on a hair trigger wound so tightly you can’t sleep at night you’ve got to get rid of the tension somehow.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, “If you’re that close and you so much as twitch too fast in the wrong direction he’ll kill you—“

“Is that why you tied him up?”

“No! God, no. Shit.” Duo hugged his knees on the cockpit chair and checked the radio again. “It’s the same with me and he knows it. He—he can’t let go unless he’s restrained, or thinks he is. I can’t actually hold him, not if he doesn’t want me to but it’s enough that—“ Duo rubbed at his face and groaned. Why weren’t the words there?

“It’s a challenge. If I can hold him, I can kill him. It’s...reassurance.” Duo blinked and looked up at Quatre. “It’s reassurance.” He said, startled at his own revelation. “As long as I can hold him, I won’t compromise us out on the field.”

Duo fell silent and let his head rest on his knees, working that thought over in his head. Quatre’s steady breathing kept perfect time with the blinking lights around his cockpit.

“What happens if you can’t hold him? What if he holds you instead?”

“Um…I don’t know.” The blush was back, “I’ve always been able to—“ He tripped over the words and stared hard at his boots, embarrassed. 

“Dominate?” Quatre supplied with amusement in his voice. The blonde was smiling just slightly.

Duo nodded once. He checked the radio just to give his hands something to do when Quatre fell silent again. He jumped when the blonde took his hands to get his attention. He hadn’t heard the Arab move, which just served to remind him how deadly any of them could be given the right circumstance

“Duo, look at me?” The Sandrock pilot was almost pleading. Duo realized that wasn’t the first time Quatre had asked. He blinked and looked up feeling a bit like a lost puppy. He hugged his knees a little closer.

“I’m not going to condemn you for this. If you want to sleep with a guy that’s none of my business. I’m just a little surprised it’s Heero.”

He got angry, fast. “What, you think I can’t handle—“ Hey Duo, that one’s called possessiveness.

“Duo, you’re not listening!” Quatre chuckled and rolled his eyes. “This is the same Heero we’re talking about right? Mister Perfect Soldier? He’s a machine, you said it yourself. I’m surprised he even knows what sex is!”

Duo snorted. Then he laughed. “Well if he didn’t know, he caught on very fast.”

Quatre giggled. “When was that?”

Duo opened his mouth to answer when the gleam in his friend’s eye made him pause. “No.” He smiled, though, “No we are not discussing my love life hidden away in my cockpit like two delinquents—“

“How about mine then?” the Arab pressed, grinning from ear to ear.

“Quatre!” Duo laughed and opened the cockpit door with a shooing motion. “Go, get out. I’m not gossiping with you!”

The blonde chuckled the whole way down.

“Hey Duo!”

“Yeah, Quat?”

“Dinner’s in ten.”

Duo smiled down from his cockpit and waved the blonde out of the hanger. He was about to retreat into the Gundam when he spotted Heero. The man was leaning out of his own mecha, frowning in Quatre’s direction. For a brief paranoid moment he was afraid Heero had overheard everything… but the radio had been off. He’d checked. 

When the Perfect Soldier lifted his gaze to Duo he managed another smile and wave routine. He could almost hear the ‘hn’ Heero muttered in response before they both stepped back into their sanctuaries.


	6. The Plan (part 2)

Duo woke on Christmas morning to the sound of someone cursing heartily. He was out of bed with gun in hand before his eyes were even fully open. He paused at his door to assess the situation. Down the hall to his right were the other pilot’s rooms. They were standing closed and he could hear nothing. To his left was a short staircase and beyond it, in the living room, was the commotion.

Duo stepped onto the stairs and hugged the wall as closely as he could. There was a thump against the hardwood floor and another bout of cursing. It sounded like someone was wrestling but Duo didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded only vaguely familiar. It was definitely masculine.

There was a pause in the wrestling and Duo heard a distinct ‘ah ha!’ He decided to make his presence known. He turned at the bottom of the stairs, gun first, and his jaw hit the floor.

Heero was kneeling in the middle of the room naked as a jay bird and it was Quatre cursing like a sailor trying to tie him up. The blonde had the upper hand for the moment but it probably wouldn’t stay that way for long.

Duo must’ve made some kind of sound because both of them stopped struggling and stared at him, Quatre in shock and Heero in anger. In the next instant the blonde bolted for the door and was through it before Duo could react.

Heero tried to lunge after him but his legs were tangled in rope and his hands were caught behind him. He had already managed to chew through the ribbon around his mouth.

Duo stowed his gun in the back of his pants and rushed forward to help the Wing pilot. “What the hell is going on?”

Heero spat at the ribbon and growled. “Something about a Christmas present. I don’t care. Winner dies tonight.”

“A present?” Duo fell away from Heero with a small breathless laugh.

“What, you know what he’s talking about?” He managed to unbind his feet and stood with some effort.

Duo made a sound deep in his throat and snaked forward. He kissed Heero hard and his alarm morphed rapidly into arousal.

Heero bit the tongue in his mouth and narrowed his eyes but he understood a bit more. “Fine. He doesn’t die, but he is going to pay.”

“What did you have in mind.?”

“Strip him, tie him up, give him to Barton.”  
Duo snickered.

“That’s what he planned on doing with me.”

“What, giving you to Trowa?

Heero didn’t roll his eyes but it was a close thing. Duo broke out into another round of snickers then broke off mid-laugh. “No!” He gasped, “They have not been making googly eyes at each other.”

Heero glared. “They can barely keep their hands off each other.”

“How did you see that and I missed it?” Duo was aghast.

“Because you’ve been doing the same to me.” Heero threw the rest of the rope off his arms and rubbed his wrists.

Duo’s heart dropped, the Perfect Soldier had finally figured it out…but there was no accusation. There was no claim that he was a danger to the mission, no insistence that their relationship be cut off. No reaction at all.

So he let his face mold into a sinister grin as if Heero hadn’t spoken at all, and when he changed the subject, Heero let him. “So let’s find the little bastard.” He grabbed the end of a rope and began winding it. Heero did the same. Thus prepared Duo moved toward the door.

It took a moment for Heero to follow him. When Duo turned around the Perfect Soldier was zipping his pants. He rolled his eyes and smirked but didn’t comment. “I’ll take point, I’m faster. I’ll flush him out to you.”

“… Hai.”

They melted into the darkness.

For about fifty feet Quatre’s tracks in the surrounding forest were easy to follow. The pilot hadn’t been thinking about hiding, just getting as far damn away from the house as possible. It was nearly a straight line but not toward anything in particular that Duo could tell.

After that first sprint things became trickier and he had to slow down to spot the signs of a body passing at rapid speed. He melded his noises into the forest, moving smoothly through the scrub and brush as if he’d grown up like Tarzan.

The wildlife was stirring uneasily. It wasn’t dawn yet so Quatre must’ve passed by not long ago. Duo grinned into the darkness.

Duo found his target when the blonde doubled back in an effort to throw the pilots off his trail. There was a moment’s pause, then Quatre bolted through the trees. Duo gave chase, dodged around a fallen log, and cut the blonde’s flight short with a full body tackle that was nearly flying.

They grappled on the forest floor, one rolling over the other, until Duo pinned his friend to the nettles with a small laugh. Quatre’s breath came in pants and his eyes were bright. Duo smiled and moved his hips slowly, just enough.

“See what I mean?” He whispered, “It’s intense—shit!”

Quatre rolled them with a laugh and they were in the middle of another tussle when Heero found them. Duo was abruptly divested of his wrestling partner and the blonde was hogtied before the American could even find his feet.

“Put those knives to use.” Heero snapped. He pulled a ribbon out of some pocket and gagged the Arab before he could protest.

Duo did as he asked with a small, “Sorry, Qat. Turnabout’s fair play.”

The blonde wiggled half-heartedly but his eyes were smiling. Duo hoped they’d still be when the Arab figured out just who they were delivering him to. He pulled off the tattered shirt and slit the pants as well. He hesitated at the briefs.

“All of it.” Heero growled low in his throat.

“My, aren’t we vengeful—“ Duo’s back hit the tree hard enough to make him gasp. Then Heero was kissing the rest of his breath away and Duo took full advantage of the moment to show him just how interested he was.

Heero pulled away almost violently and snarled his words. “No one touches you but me.” Then he was gone, throwing Quatre over his shoulder like an oversized sack of potatoes.

Duo’s laugh was little more than air. “That one’s called jealousy…” 

When they reached the house Quatre’s struggles started in earnest and it took them both to hold the Arab quietly enough not to alert the other pilots. When they hit the stairs the blonde went suddenly still and Duo saw his face pale. He almost called a halt to the whole thing, then two spots of pink colored his friend’s cheeks and Shinigami sneered.

By the time they reached Trowa’s door he was struggling again but between Heero’s strength and Duo’s speed the blonde really had no choice but to kneel there in naked glory and take it. Heero rapped on the door sharply.

There was no sound from inside, but the door eventually eased open. Trowa’s stare started at Duo’s grinning face, traveled surprised down to Quatre, then back up again to Heero. Duo saw violent anger in those normally passive green eyes.

Before all hell could break loose he pushed the Wing pilot deeper down the hallway and gave Quatre a friendly pat on the head. “Happy Christmas, Trow!” Duo saw surprise register again before he convinced Heero into his room.

Once Heero recognized their destination, Duo lost all illusion of control. The door slammed shut, Duo’s back crashed against it and Heero assaulted his mouth. Teeth clashed. Duo scratched his fingers down Heero’s torso before he remembered the man wasn’t wearing a shirt. There was nothing to remove.

He pushed Heero back and ducked his head to fasten his mouth on a nipple. Heero shoved him against the door with a snarled “no—“. Duo’s shirt was forcibly removed and Heero attacked the American’s chest himself. Duo keened and arched into the sensation. His pants were ripped down to his ankles and he kicked them away just before Heero landed on his knees and engulfed him.

Duo’s hands clenched in Heero’s hair. He shouted once, a sharp bark of sound and came with a jerk. Before he could recover Heero pushed him onto the bed and started again. Duo panted for air. The Perfect Soldier had barely broken a sweat.

They kissed, this one no less violent then the one before. Heero broke it off to snarl at something above Duo’s head. The pillow, apparently, because it went flying off the mattress a moment later and the case wrapped around Duo’s hands. He struggled but Heero was just as good at tying knots as Duo was. He couldn’t get out for a little while at least, and during that while he was deliciously distracted.

Heero bit a trail down his chest, leaving small red welts in his wake that broke out in goosebumps when the air chilled. Duo fisted the sheets and tried to focus on getting enough air. A slick finger entered him, then two and Duo gave up breathing for the greater good. Before he could beg for more Heero was there giving it to him, splitting him open in a single steady plunge. They both gasped at the end of it and one of Heero’s hands clenched on Duo’s thigh.

“Oh god…” Duo gulped. “Move, Heero. Move or I swear on Sister Helen’s soul this is the last you are ever going to get.” 

Heero moved. Short, fast, unsatisfying strokes that drove Duo too high, too fast, too soon. Duo crashed over the edge when Heero broke the pattern into a series of long thrusts that left him incoherent. He might’ve screamed. He might’ve whispered Heero’s name. He might’ve just babbled nonsense until Heero shut him up with a kiss and stiffened for his own climax buried deep inside the American.

When Duo could see again he was breathing harshly. Heero lay half atop him, mussed head on his chest, only somewhat more contained and certainly less inclined to move. Duo was trapped in an embrace he wasn’t sure he could break if he wanted to. He disentangled his hands from the pillowcase and stroked Heero’s back with a sigh.

Sunlight peaked through the trees into the room’s only window with distinct hesitation. Duo closed his eyes with a smile. “Happy damn Christmas.” He muttered.


	7. The Plan (sidestory)

This… had not gone quite according to his plan. Quatre watched Duo and Heero stumble into a bedroom with something a bit like wistful jealousy. Sure, that had been his eventual goal this morning so he was a little proud it had worked out in the end… But himself bound and gagged hadn’t really been in the equation. Aroused was an… inconvenient side-effect. He was prepared for that. He was not prepared for naked.

The look he gave Trowa must’ve been close enough to panic because the Latin lifted him bodily and kicked the door closed, more concerned about him than the two idiots in the next room. Trowa placed him gently on tousled bed sheets and began working at the rope around his ankles.

“What happened?” His voice was curt and laced with anger Quatre could tell was being suppressed by sheer force of will and nothing more.

The blonde grunted. The ribbon in his mouth muffled the sound. Trowa looked up, his eyes sharper than glass, and the anger intensified even as an apology lurked in the back. Quatra spat at the ribbon when it was undone then looked up and said with all seriousness; “Kiss me.”

“What?” Confusion, distrust, anger, misunderstanding. It was all there in emerald eyes if one knew how to look. Quatre kicked his feet loose from the rope to get a firmer stance and made his words action.

He leaned forward and kissed the object of his attraction for all he was worth. Never mind that his hands were bound behind his back and useless. Never mind he was naked as the day he was born under a spider web of rope that certainly left nothing to the imagination.

Duo had been right. It was intense. Absolutely invigorating. 

Trowa grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to sit. “Quatre, what the hell is going on?”

“Mission gone bad—well not bad.” He corrected himself against the alarm in Trowa’s eyes, “Just… off kilter.” He blushed and turned on the bed to present Trowa with his hands. “Do you mind?”

Quatre frowned gently to himself when the Latin bent to work at the ropes and seemed completely unaffected by his state of undress. His arousal felt impossible to miss and it wasn’t going away any time soon—not with the amount of adrenaline coursing through his system. He tried to focus on Trowa’s question anyway.

“Duo confided in me a few days ago. He said that he and Heero had been—“ An abrupt shout of sound issued through the wall, Duo’s voice. “That they were together.” The blush was back. “So I took it upon myself to present Duo with a Christmas gift this morning. That is to say—Heero.”

“And this is payback?” Trowa finished softly, still bent over the knots.

“I’m surprised Duo managed to talk him out of killing me.” Trowa’s hands jerked on the rope, “Thankful,” Quatre continued, “But surprised.”

Trowa pulled the rope away and Quatre rubbed at his wrists. “Thanks… now I can kiss you properly.”

“Quatre—“ He caught the Arab’s hands and was cut off before he could say more.

“Trowa.” The blonde lifted an eyebrow, “I want you. Now. I don’t know how to make it any more clear. Duo and Heero obviously approve and it would be a little hypocritical of them to condemn us for it.” He tried to keep the irony from ringing in his voice.

Trowa was silent and even the depths of his eyes couldn’t give Quatre an answer. The blonde began to retreat, “Unless you don’t—“

Grasping; “Yes. I do, but…”

Quatre’s eyes were kind and he reached forward to stroke the side of Trowa’s face. “Then just let it go.” He pulled the man toward him and Trowa leaned forward in hesitating jerks. “Let me love you…”

“Oh, god…” They met gently, sweetly. Quatre pulled the Heavyarms pilot closer and opened his mouth to a questing tongue so tentative it made him want to weep. He inched back on the bed and guided Trowa with him until the pilot was moving forward of his own accord. 

He lay down slowly, careful not to break the tentative kiss, afraid that was the only contact keeping Trowa here with him in the now rather than lost in thought. The Latin braced himself on the mattress and executed a pushup perfectly, terrifyingly controlled. 

Quatre clung. “Give me your weight. Let me feel you. Let me know you’re here, I—“ …don’t know if I can do this, please help me. His voice was not steady. There was a half minute of absolute stillness where a fear threaded itself deep within Quatre’s heart. Trowa didn’t want this or couldn’t do this. The feeling wasn’t mutual. He had been mistaken. This was a mistake-

And then he was gathered in strong bronzed arms and Trowa’s weight was on him, easily born. He wrapped his arms around the Latin’s wide back and threaded their legs together. 

Trowa’s breath was hot on his shoulder. “I don’t deserve this…”

Quatre hugged him tighter. How did one respond to that? How did he reassure a doubt so deeply engrained? He shifted and kissed him, poured his whole heart into that kiss and prayed to Allah it was enough. He had nothing else to give.

The broken sound Trowa made in the back of his throat was so indefinable Quatre couldn’t have explained it if he tried. He pulled the pilot’s shirt up and ran his fingers along the hot skin beneath it, suddenly craving that closer contact with an almost dire urgency.

Trowa pulled the shirt over his head and Quatre slid his sweats down at the same time, kicking the fabric off and away. When his weight came down again, burning skin to skin, it was searingly perfect.

“Touch me… please.” Quatre panted and stroked what skin he could reach.

Trowa collected his knees under him and cradled Quatre’s slim neck in his long fingers. He pressed and kneaded the skin there, skimmed his fingers over the delicate collarbone and pressed his palms firmly on either side of his ribs, as if assuring himself the blonde was really, truly there. 

Quatre arched into the hot touch wherever it surfaced. He breathed in deeply to feel Trowa’s hands brush his sides and over the top of his chest, hesitating over hard nipples. The air came out in a low moan and a short litany of ‘please, please’ that prompted Trowa lower.

The Latin splayed his palm over Quatre’s slim hips and watched in fascinated pleasure as the blonde writhed slowly against the sheets. ‘please, please’ was quickly becoming his mantra. Quatre was nearly delirious and nothing had even happened yet. So when Trowa shocked him by bending to lick the tip of his erection, Quatre’s breath escaped in a high keening note.

Trowa slid lower, sucked, kneaded, worked his tongue around the shaft then back up to the head. Quatre was beside himself. He dug his fingers into the sheets to avoid sinking them into Trowa’s hair and frightening the man away. His nerves sang with tension. Trowa breathed, then sucked again forcing a temperature change that spun Quatre higher than before.

He couldn’t remember how to breathe. When Trowa brush a careful hesitant finger down the curve of his ass Quatre couldn’t remember anything at all. The crest was wrenched through him from gut to toes and he cried out, sobbed Trowa’s name. 

The pilot swallowed everything and was suddenly rolled to the side. Quatre panted, kissed a trail down Trowa’s neck and palmed the erection at the bottom of the line. He bit the Latin’s shoulder when he arched with a gasp. He urged Trowa higher with his fingers, licked at a nipple, and skimmed his free hand over bare, hot skin.

The pilot was flung over the edge no holds barred. His entire body went rigid and his climax was utterly silent. Quatre let himself fall to the bed beside his lover and traced invisible designs over the broad chest until Trowa came back to himself. His breathing slowed and eventually evened out. He curled an arm around the blonde, then his breathing evened further. Asleep.

Quatre smiled and shifted closer to whisper against bronze skin. “You deserve the world.”


	8. The Sticking Point

At the dinner table Duo slid his foot gently into Wufei’s and caught the man’s black glance with a serious stare of his own. He drifted his eyes slowly over to Heero, then back to Wufei who got the message loud and clear. 

His spoon dropped to the bowl in a clatter. “I need permission from him?” Jerking a thumb at the Perfect Soldier.

Heero was out of his chair in a flash. He hauled Wufei to his feet by the throat and slammed the man against the counter, a gun at his ear. “What did you do with him?”

“Nothing.” Duo stirred his cereal and interjected before Wufei could get himself killed. “I drew a line and he never crossed it.” He took another bite, unsurprised at the way this was unfolding. Heero had not been gentle with Quatre when they had stalked the blonde in the woods. The difference was Duo hadn’t been interested in Quatre but he was very curious about Wufei. He finally looked up to assess them.

Heero recocked his browning but didn’t otherwise move. Duo saw him considering each piece of information: and swiftly coming to the conclusion that Duo was interested which meant he couldn’t outright shoot the man for toeing a line he didn’t know was there. He lowered the gun. Duo hid his surprise. Wufei wasn’t any less dangerous then him, with or without a knife. 

He saw Wufei stumble through the same emotions he had in the middle of the night: shock, distrust, curiosity, others that Duo wasn’t sure he recognized, then slowly, as the man realized this was Heero’s firs step toward trying; lust.

Duo couldn’t remain in his seat any longer. He dragged the chair back deliberately announcing his movements to the both of them. He was less concerned about Wufei than he was about the Perfect Soldier. Even with two of them on their guard, Heero could easily take this straight to killing without remorse. He hadn’t lifted his hand from the gun, it lay on top of the weapon but it was on the counter and Duo was in familiar territory. 

He approached and cocked his hip on the counter beside them. Neither offered him a glance but Duo didn’t expect one. They could see him clearly from the edges of vision. Duo could see Wufei wasn’t sure what to do next while Heero was incapable of making that next step unless pushed. Wufei hadn’t approached Heero, though, he’d approached Duo. It was a sticky little triangle.

Finally he offered to Wufei, “If you’re going to do anything, he needs to stop thinking first.” There wasn’t much specific advice Duo could have offered. What worked from him wasn’t who Wufei was and at this level of tension they could only ever be their completely deadly selves.

Wufei moved with the artistic precision of a cobra. He lashed against Heero’s stiff arm holding his neck, snaked his head forward to crash their lips together and deflected the gun arm up and away. The weapon skittered across the counter into the sink. Heero thrust a leg between Wufei’s and twisted them both around. Wufei had a hand at his pants.

Duo took a step back from the violence. It was like two tigers clashing together to create lightening. 

The two fell to the ground, Heero taking the brunt of the fall and loosing his pants down to the knees in the process. Wufei took complete advantage of the handicap and flipped Heero to his stomach, jerking a leg free of the restraint. His own pants he only opened far enough to do business and yanked Heero back along the tile and against his arousal.

Duo dropped a tube of slick on Heero’s back and crouched in front of the Perfect Soldier. Heero growled at him. His eyes were still crisply Prussian. Duo found that curious. He watched them change faintly to the crisp brittle ice gray and noted that Wufei had made good with the lube. When the man entered him hard and steady, though, the ice broke back to bright Prussian. 

Heero reached forward and grabbed Duo’s ankle. He yanked the American under him with one pull. Duo yelped but eagerly lost his shirt. The pants were harder, then became a lost cause when Heero hauled him up with an arm behind his back and bit hard on the coil of muscle where Duo’s neck joined shoulder. He felt Heero stifling yells with each of Wufei’s piston-like thrusts. There was going to be color there, no doubt.

Wufei’s eyes burned into him but Duo was pressed to define the emotion he saw.  
Intense was the only word that came to mind. He was perfectly focused and the effect it had on Heero was astounding. The Perfect Soldier was tense. Every muscle bulged. Duo was locked against the man’s chest by a single arm, his thighs appeared to be carved from stone, and judging from the vibration of sound against Duo’s neck, he would say things were coming to a crest. 

He had the sudden desire to hear that sound rather than feel it. He reached his untrestrained arm around and grabbed the small strands of hair at Heero’s neck. “Stop biting, Heero.” He purred the name, knowing how he liked to hear his own. The teeth unlocked from his shoulder with difficulty but there issued no sound. It was locked up in a straining throat instead and Duo pushed his thumb against Heero’s neck. “No, don’t be silent. I want to hear you scream for him.”

Duo bit down in a mirror of his own injury and Heero’s voice cried on the air, unfiltered and needy. It went straight to Duo’s erection. His eyes rolled. He saw Wufei clawing toward climax amid that sound. Heeo’s own voice seemed to send him over the pitch, his back bowed out. He called, “’fei!” once, sharply, and shook under Duo’s touch. 

The Perfect Soldier’s arm gave out first, relaxing in jerky degrees until Duo was returned to chilly tile. Then he bent to his elbows, breath harsh, and Duo realized Wufei hadn’t made it to the peak. The man pulled back, eyes intent on Duo as he approached the sink to wash up.

Heero fell to one side and hugged Duo from behind. Duo rolled them both up so he lay on top of the Soldier, prone. Wufei turned back toward him, gleaming and hard, to kneel smoothly at Duo’s feet. The intensity changed, somehow. Shifted from violence to… something else Duo couldn’t readily identify. Wufei pulled almost gently at Duo’s pants and swiped at what Heero had left smeared over his stomach with the warm washcloth from the counter. 

Wufei straddled Heero’s legs to lean between Duo’s and reached to cradle Duo’s neck as he’d done only hours ago. This time Duo didn’t stop him when he approached to kiss. It was gentle. Direct contrast to the fight he’d had with Heero seconds ago. They explored, rather than conquered, and when Wufei finally breached below it was with smooth insistence. Duo felt opened and assessed more completely than he’d ever felt before. The word intense had somehow become inadequate for this coming together of utterly private selves. Duo lost track of when his crest actually began. The movement built with such ease between them that instead of vaulting over the peak and crashing to the other side, the peak simply plateaued for the space of entire heartbeats. 

Suddenly it was gone and Duo struggled for air. Wufei was equally driven and they stared at each other, mutually stunned. 

Duo pulled up away from Heero (who let go reluctantly), to splay a hand on Wufei’s chest. He pushed the man down and released the knife at his right wrist. He felt tension under his fingers and swiped his hand down to Wufei’s hip. He cut his name through protesting hisses of pain. Wufei never stopped him, though.

Duo returned to Heero and pulled the man up off the tile floor, “To bed.” He said. “All of us, I think.” He held a hand out to Wufei.

“When do I get to mark you?” Wufei asked instead.

Duo shook his head, “I think you know that you already have.” He wasn’t speaking physically.

Wufei accepted his hand.


	9. The Trial

The hanger wasn’t empty. Duo spotted Wufei mid-kata in the large space between Gundams, every muscle shining under the lights. The workout was slow but Duo could see the concentration it required etched in Wufei’s posture. Duo wasn’t shy about approaching, though he did so with less attention to silence with his first few steps. He stopped a respectful distance away and enjoyed absorbing each slow movement by the expert before him.

Wufei was a strange mixture of intense stillness. Duo had known Heero to be intensely violent, but his quiet periods were simply a lack of activity. By contrast Wufei did everything with his entire being; even moments of quiet were accomplished tasks, rather than a moment to relax.

The kata closed with Wufei facing Duo, eyes half closed and breath perfectly even despite the obvious toll exacted. Duo approached on silent feet until he was close enough to feel the man’s breath on his face. “Are you at all attracted to Heero?” He asked.

Wufei’s eyes opened very slowly to their full size. “He is not beautiful as you are.”

Duo’s eyes went wide. He narrowed them suspiciously. “Answer the question.”

“He is a perfect form of brute force; that is its own kind of beauty.”

“Yes or no, Wufei.”

“I already fucked him stupid, I would think this is a rhetorical question. Why are you asking?”

“Because if this is going to continue he needs to be a part of it.”

“Yes, why is that?”

“He approached me first and I’m not sure what I feel for you is anything more than glorified lust.”

Wufei chewed that over rapidly. “Does he know how you feel?”

“Yes.”

“And he hasn’t removed you?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

Wufei’s lip curled, “So you’re looking for a back up plan?”

Duo managed not to roll his eyes. “Mostly I want you to fuck me blind, but I accepted a few rules when I took on Heero. I want to make sure you’re not going to use him to get to me.”

“Like the way you used him to get to me?”

“I didn’t say you had to fuck him, just that he needed to stop thinking. I’ve used a knife in the past.”

“Hmm, was there some reason you think I would not be attracted to him?”

“You didn’t finish with him…”

A smile crept around Wufei’s lips. “I prefer my partners a bit more… responsive.” He leaned in subtly. 

Duo fought the urge to lean back, “I made him voice it at the end.”

“Are you a screamer, Duo?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“I disagree. I want you. I’m willing to jump through Heero’s hoops if necessary but I can’t promise to feel for him like you do. He’s attractive, yes, but you’re the real prize.”

“Are you going to cross the line?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it…” But he leaned in.

Duo held his ground. They were so close that eye contact was the only thing they could manage. Unfortunately, Duo wasn’t fluent in Wufei’s eyes, they seemed just as black as always. Abruptly Wufei pulled back with a chuckle. “Go find him and discuss what you’ve learned. Let me know when I’m allowed to touch you again.” He turned away. 

Duo walked back to the safe house with no idea where to begin.

Heero grabbed him before he was half way through the door and slammed him against the wall. The kiss was smothering. Duo matched it, tempered it, and brought the violence down to a low simmer instead. Heero pressed against him, breathing hard, “I don’t understand this…?”

“Why haven’t you killed me?” Duo was almost used to words popping out without permission around Heero.

“Because this is my fault.”

“What?”

“I didn’t tell you to go back to bed. I should have pushed you back, should have shot you—“ Heero grabbed him in a fierce hug, “What is this feeling that drops my gut every time I think of you dying? I can’t stand it.”

That one, Heero, could be love. Duo shook.

Heero laughed brokenly, “You’re a liability, fuck I’m a liability. I should leave.” He didn’t move away.

“You can’t leave.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll just follow you, Heero. There’s no where you can hide I can’t find you eventually.”

“You’ll damn us both, then.”

“We’re already damned, I’m sure.”

“Not if I leave. We can finish this war, figure it out afterward…”

“You really think you’ll survive this thing? You’ve already tried to self destruct once.”

“Damnit, Maxwell—“

“You can’t just drop it for convenience and pick it back up in a year or two like nothing’s ever changed. Even if we are still alive how do you know you’ll feel the same?”

“You’ll survive, you can find Wufei…?”

“I’m not in love with Wufei!”

And there it was between them suddenly, that word he couldn’t suppress no matter how hard he tried. Heero jerked back, wide eyed and fierce. Duo matched his glare, not daring to back away from it. Love didn’t make him weaker. How could he make him see that?

“What?”

Was this really coming as a surprise?

Heero moved fast but Duo was faster, more on edge; he had more to loose. Heero’s arm twitched in to grab him by the throat but Duo slammed his shoulder forward into Heero’s chest. The Wing pilot stepped back into Duo’s prone foot and went down hard. Duo brought Heero’s filched Browning to bear precisely at the man’s left knee. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this conversation with a fight and some rutting.”

From the floor, “You don’t get it—“

“Explain it to me.”

“I can’t kill you. If you’re compromised I can’t silence you.”

Duo rolled that over for a moment, knowing it was as close to an admission of feeling as he’d ever be getting. He wasn’t too broken up over this revelation since continuing to live was rather important to him, but he knew where Heero was coming from. He was right, they were both liabilities for each other. When had that happened?

“I don’t suppose you know my odds of singing?”

“Thirteen percent.”

“Under what circumstances?”

“One week sleep deprivation, serious blood loss, at least two conflicting drugs, prolonged sensory deprivation, two or three broken bones, a host of minor annoyances all simultaneously.”

“And what are those odds?”

“With current known OZ personnel and chain of command… negligible.”

“That sounds pretty good to me. Are those odds not acceptable?”

“If I could kill you the odds would be zero.”

“Well, I, for one, am glad that’s not an option on the table anymore.” Duo lowered the gun and recocked the hammer.

Heero climbed to his feet. “You’d rather survive torture?”

“I’d rather not die.” Duo retorted. He passed the Browning back to Heero who frowned at it but accepted the weapon. Duo crossed his arms. “What’s your opinion of Wufei?”

“He’s a competent fighter but his sense of Honor prevents him from reaching further potential.”

Speak of the devil and he appeared with utterly silent steps into the room from the back. “Hmm. That’s nice.”

Heero’s brow furrowed, cleared, furrowed again, “Has he touched you? I’m going to kill him.”

Duo stepped in his path, “You know at this rate you’re going to run out of allies before OZ realizes they even have enemies. Simmer down, he hasn’t done anything since yesterday.” But he was approaching now and Duo was pressed to not glance over and give him away.

“Yesterday was a mistake.”

Duo lifted an eyebrow, “Really? Because you quite enjoyed it. I’ve never been able to make you moan like that.” He took a step closer, whispered, “I get shivers every time I remember it.” He shivered now as Wufei took up a loose, ready stance behind Heero and wrapped the end of a long rope around his own hand.

Heero looked at him sidelong, “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me interested to try something I’d normally have no opinion on at all.”

Duo smiled wickedly, “It’s part of that feeling you’re trying so hard not to name.”

“I don’t think I can let him near you without getting involved.” Heero reverted to the original question.

Duo jumped to Wufei’s train of thought. “What if you were tied down?”

“You think you can secure me?”

“Are you willing to find out?”

Heero considered it for a long series of heartbeats before finally, subtly nodding yes.

Duo and Wufei moved together with one mind. Duo wrapped an arm around Heero’s waist to hold him too close for effective defense and controlled the more dangerous right hand long enough for Wufei to catch and wrap the left tightly in rope.

Heero jerked between them and Duo caught his mouth with a brief kiss, “Easy now, you should enjoy the show.” He bent Heero’s right arm back and Wufei got to work binding forearm to forearm where they could do the least harm.

Duo cut away Heero’s shirt and pants and between two of them it was almost easy to force him to his knees. Duo lay the flat of his blade against the very faint lines of his name and Heero went carefully still. Wufei began binding forearms to ankles. When Duo was sure Heero wouldn’t twist around he freshened the mark with shallow, stinging cuts.

“You’re a bit too friendly with your knives, Duo.” Wufei drawled.

“To each his own, my friend.”

“Your lover is secure.”

Duo walked his fingers up Heero’s chest and smiled at blazing Prussian eyes. “Hmmmm, lover… so what does that make you?” He flicked his stare over Heero’s shoulder to Wufei. “The mistress?”

Wufei twisted around Heero to slam Duo into the ground without warning. “You really know how to push the buttons, don’t you?”

“Just another service I offer free of charge.” Duo squirmed and nearly got free. Wufei bodily flipped him to his stomach and yanked his pants down. Cold tile met Duo’s hot erection. He yelped and lifted to his knees, directly into Wufei’s bare arousal. Wufei rutted there slowly while he dug around in Duo’s pants for the slick.

Duo fisted his own erection, impatient and needy. He felt the stretch of Wufei’s length without any warning, no fingers first to prepare the way. The sensation made him forget his self-pleasure and focus on rocking gently in time with Wufei’s hands on his hips. The going was slower and longer than Heero but no less satisfying. Wufei buried himself to the end and Duo whined.

He cut off the sound when he saw Heero shift in front of him. The Wing pilot was aroused but still bound. Duo found his eyes pale like ice.

“I want to see you scream,” Heero said, his voice more rough than normal.

Duo was going to offer a sarcastic quip but Wufei pulled and thrust with little regard for timing. He forced a sound from Duo’s throat that felt like it began at the bottom of his lungs. Heero’s eyes rolled. Duo stopped trying to repress the noise.

Wufei played him like some kind of living instrument, drawing whole octaves from him in gasping sets of rhythm. Duo’s moans drove the tempo faster, harder, until he was using his not insignificant strength just to remain on hands and knees. Wufei cut back into long gentle strokes without warning. Duo lapsed into a bout of cursing as the peak pulled away from him without cresting. But the second rise was sharper, stronger. Duo arched his chest down and changed the angle, tightened, sparked Wufei’s climax and his own with a cry. Pleasure broke over him twice, hitching his voice. 

He stretched out on the cool tile when Wufei retreated, narrowly avoiding the wet spot. He heard Heero breathing hard over him and couldn’t generate the energy to reach up to his erection. He did roll to his side when Wufei knelt and took the arousal firmly in hand.

Whether it was the voyeurism, being bound, or simply Wufei’s intense attention Duo couldn’t say, but Heero found his peak in a few strokes and wasn’t silent for it. Wufei untied the knots before abandoning them on the floor.

Duo found his feet and helped Heero to his, noting a distinct lack of rope burns. Wufei certainly had a strange collection of tricks.


	10. The Mark

Duo threw his covers back and stifled a sigh, His insomnia was back and he hadn’t noticed its absence until now. He tried counting the days since he last had trouble sleeping and couldn’t. He didn’t remember a single sleepless night since Heero first—Duo looked over at the prone form across the room—since Heero had first drawn him closer that night instead of pushing him away. How odd. Duo debated only briefly with himself about rising, how had so much changed so quickly?

He rose but didn’t pace. Heero was aware of him, he was sure, though the pilot still looked as composed and asleep as ever. Duo reached slowly for Heero’s hand above his pillow. He twined their fingers and braced there to swing his leg over with careful consideration. He finally settled across Heero’s lap and the pilot’s eyes slitted open, gleaming. 

Heero whispered, “I don’t want you with Wufei anymore.”

Duo was thrown for a second, dragged out of planning his next move into conversation. “You didn’t enjoy it?”

“It was fine. I don’t want him touching you—I don’t want anyone touching you except me.” He gripped Duo’s hand tightly.

“Well I guess I can’t say you didn’t try.”

“Will he let you go?”

“I’ll tell him in the morning. Consider it done.”

Heero’s grip turned steel, “What about you? Can you let him go?”

Duo leaned up, “He’s already gone. I’m only yours.”

Heero let his hand go and leaned upward to kiss. Duo pressed down to meet his mouth while their hands wandered. Heero threaded his fingers into Duo’s hair behind his neck and tugged them apart. He followed the braid to its end. “Let me see you…?”

Duo pulled the band off the end of the braid and began unwinding the knots efficiently. Heero stilled his hands and took over the task with slow reverence. Duo lost his pants while Heero was fascinated by the length of his hair unbound. He triggered the knife at his right wrist and pulled Heero’s covers down only to find him already naked. He reset the knife and found the slick on the adjacent desk beside the Browning.

Heero pulled his head down for another lingering kiss. “I want you to ride me. I want to see all of you.”

Duo flushed, smiled shyly, and prepared himself instead of Heero as requested. He bit his lip but breathed hard when Heero reached up to touch his cheek.

“Don’t hide your voice, that’s one thing Wufei got right. The sound of you makes me ache.”

God, did Heero have a clue the effect his words were having? He lined up and impaled slowly, letting out a low breathy moan as he moved. Heero grabbed his hips and supported his next tension upward. His controlled fall was slow again. Each decent made him tense with desire but with Heero’s strength applied to the task Duo kept the pace slower for a lot longer then he could manage alone. Sweat broke out and he began subtly shaking long before Heero fatigued.

They crawled toward the peak. Duo’s eyes fell closed and he gave his weight over to Heero, feeling like nothing more than a single quivering touch nerve.

Heero flexed. He sat up and guided Duo down to the bed without changing his pace in the least. Duo couldn’t tell where he ended and Heero began. He called out with every masochistically controlled thrust. He wasn’t coherent enough to force the pace or angle, he was at Heero’s mercy.

Duo didn’t know how long Heero crouched over him thrusting with the controlled force and pace of a piston but at some point Heero’s voice joined his at the end of each flex. The sound coiled Duo tightly and their contact intensified. Duo grabbed sheets when the crest broke over him and parted like mist over a wave. He held on for dear life when Heero thrust twice more before the crest hit him broadside and he jerked so deeply Duo could feel his heartbeat. They remained tensed for some time, either unable or unwilling to relax their abused muscles.

Eventually, though, Heero pulled them apart and lay back on the bed. Duo gathered himself to crawl up and join him when something caught his eye. He brushed his hand against Heero’s hip where marks like and unlike his knife’s cuts decorated the skin. He pat the wall for the switch and muttered ‘light’ just before flicking it.

He moved his hand over the flat space of skin between hip and thigh. 

“I got tired of you cutting me to ribbons.”

His name was there in dark ink, angular letters like those his knife had made times before. “What is this?” He traced the tattoo with his thumb.

“Duo…” Heero waited until Duo lifted his eyes in question. “The odds are acceptable.”


End file.
